Chapter Text
It was a warzone, obviously. When wasn’t it?
I was just trying to keep my head down, stay out of the crossfire. I wasn’t here for heroics. I wasn’t here to get tangled up in some Autobot-Decepticon mess. I was here because the world had fallen apart, and there was nowhere else to be.
The moment I stepped into that decimated city block, though, I realized I'd screwed up. I barely dodged a piece of falling metal. My heart was trying to punch its way out of my chest. Gosh, what the hell was I supposed to do here!!
And then just as quickly, there was a thud beside me. Bang, someone slammed their rifle into the dirt beside my feet, giving me a sharp look.
A twenty-eight-foot-tall Autobot. His frame was heavy and solid, but the way he moved — effortlessly fluid, made him seem almost- too comfortable with the destruction surrounding him. He was covered in that trademark green armor and didn’t say a word, just looked at me for a second before giving me that grin. His optics flashing with something between amusement and annoyance.
For a moment, I swore my heart stopped. His gaze was piercing — calculating, maybe? Or maybe I was just imagining it. Either way, it was like he could see straight through me, assessing whether I was worth his time or not.
"Well, you're either brave or stupid, ay"
I blinked, suddenly aware of how absurd this situation was.
"I... I just... got caught up in this-" I stammered my voice cracking slightly.
Crosshairs didn’t react right away. Instead, he gave me a slow, almost lazy once-over.
“You’ve got a death wish kid” He shrugged nonchalantly.
Kid? What Kid!
“Not really sure what you ment, but I didn’t exactly choose to be here!” I snapped back, but backed away quickly after realising I’m shouting at something x times bigger.
He didn’t even flinch at my outburst. "Feisty," he muttered. "Didn’t say you had a choice. Just said you’ve got a death wish."
I could hear blaster fire further down the block, the rumble of collapsing buildings. Someone screamed. Somewhere, something exploded. None of it seemed to faze him.
“Do you always just talk to people like that in the middle of warzones?” I asked, before I could stop myself — the sarcasm slipping out like a bad reflex.
He snorted, actually snorted, like I was the one being ridiculous. "Only the ones standing around like lost lambs while missiles are flying overhead."
Before I could think of something clever — or stupid — to throw back, another explosion tore through the street behind me, the shockwave nearly knocking me off my feet. I stumbled forward, instinctively throwing my arms up — and then something huge moved in front of me.
Crosshairs.
He stepped between me and the debris, one arm coming down like a shield without even looking. It hit his armor with a loud clang, sparking off, leaving a scorching mark but not a dent.
"Yeah," he said over his shoulder, voice a little lower now. "Definitely stupid."
He didn’t even look at it. Didn’t look at me either.
Just muttered under his breath, “Squishies and their bloody timing…”
“What was that?” I ask bitterly. Tho, I have to think it through again — swallowing hard — “Thanks-“
He finally glanced over his shoulder. His optics narrowed. “Don’t thank me yet. You’re still breathing — that’s your problem now.”
Then, without warning, he reached down, two massive fingers hovering near my side. “C’mere. You stay on the ground much longer, you will get turned into roadkill.”
I hesitated.
“Ah look, I ain’t offerin’ again,” he added. “You wanna fraging live? You stick close to me. You don’t bloody argue. You don’t run. And if I tell you to duck, you damn well duck, got it, ay?”
“Got it” I mutter as I grab onto him. What the actual fuck was happening?
He barely waited for me to get a solid grip before he was moving again. I braced against the edge of his shoulder plating, tucking in instinctively as we cut through the wreckage-strewn street.
Something exploded ahead — bright flash, shockwave tearing through the road. He didn’t slow, just leapt clean over the crater like it was a pothole.
We landed hard, and I nearly bit my tongue. Ouch, dammnit.
<\<Crosshairs, you’ve got Decepticons inbound, two klicks west. They’re movin’ fast.>>
“Course they are,” he growled. “Bloody clankers got nothin’ better to do.”
He turned sharply, one hand yanking his rifle free again. I ducked instinctively as it whirred to life. And then—I saw them, decepticons.
“This is where the fun starts.”
The first shot left the barrel like thunder, dropping the lead ‘Con mid-run. Another darted left, trying to flank. Crosshairs spun, one hand steadying me with almost accidental care, the other raining blaster fire without missing a beat.
“You do this every day?” I shouted over the chaos.
“Pfft. Nah. Some days I sleep in and let Bee do the heavy liftin’. But I’m feeling generous.”
“I think I’m gonna throw up—”
“Frag, hold it in you girl, the hell not on me ah!”
I giggled.
One Decepticon got too close — charging recklessly — and leapt for him.
He didn’t even flinch.
Instead, Crosshairs sidestepped with brutal efficiency, caught the bot mid-air, ripped him down hard, and pinned him to the ground with one foot.
“Ah know Ah’m a hawt piece of aft,” he drawled loudly, sarcastic as hell as the ‘Con struggled under him, “but ya guys are takin’ this way too far!”
Then he fired point-blank, sending sparks and scorched plating everywhere.
Smoke curled around what was left of the Decepticon, heat rippling in the air like a mirage. Crosshairs finally stepped off the mangled heap, brushing some soot off his plating like it was lint.
“Freakin' drama queens, every last one of ‘em,” He growled amusely.
He moved to the side of a building — or what was left of one — and crouched low behind the half-standing concrete. Cover. For now. “We’re settin’ down. Recharge, regroup. I gotta do a damage check.”
He reached up, fingers brushing at my side again. A little gentler this time.
“Gonna need ya to hop down for a tick.”
After not getting a respons he grumbled, almost offended. “…I ain’t gonna drop ya, alright?” ….“Ain’t that much of a bastard.”
I climbed off — awkward, clumsy, my legs wobbling as soon as I hit the ground. My knees nearly gave out. “Shit—”
A hand was behind me in an instant, bracing my back without pressure. His expression had changed — just a little. Less sharp around the edges. Still smug. But not cruel.
“You always crack jokes when stuff’s trying to kill you?” I asked, slumping down against a broken pillar.
Crosshairs gave a soft exhale — maybe the closest thing he had to a laugh. He pulled a round from a hip compartment, started reloading with practiced ease, optics scanning the horizon.
“Touché”
“Y’know,” he said eventually, voice dropping a fraction, “most ‘Bots would’ve left ya. Deadweight. Too fragile.”
“You were gonna,” I replied before I could stop myself.
He was quiet.
“…Yeah. Might’ve,” he said at last, not looking at me. He glanced down.
“But that’s stupid, y’know.”
Then — the corner of his mouth twitched, ever so slightly. “Still. Pretty damn impressive for a squishy.”
I smirked. “Aw. Was that almost a compliment?”
“Don’t push it, eh.”
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